I was fortunate to receive this book for free in a giveaway. Jackson, 1964 is a collection of articles Calvin Trillin wrote for the New Yorker from 1964-1995 that all have race in America as part of their theme.
This book is potent and powerful and these articles are as pertinent today as they were when they were written, touching on topics like unjust prison sentencing, profiling, voting rights and desegregating public education (oh, and not just in the naughty South). The settings of the articles are dotted all over our country. And, at the end of each article, Trillin updates us on what has happened since the article was published so we hear firsthand how far we've improved (or, in too many cases, not improved and sometimes fallen farther back).
There's a lot of upsetting revelations in this book that lay into how deep and insidious our country's racial prejudice goes. But, the last chapter, State Secrets, is particularly unsettling/eye-opening. It details the efforts of The Mississippi Sovereignty Commission, a state-funded organization that was established in 1956 and wasn't completely abolished until 1977. There were some clever "proper governmental" (my words, not Trillin's) why this organization needed to exist, but their sole goal was to maintain segregation in subtle and overt ways. They had inspectors check the fingernails of babies of single white mothers (based on a crackpot belief that you could check someone's halfmoon cuticles to find out if they were mixed race). Of course, Mississippi is notorious for its fight against desegregation. But, how deep it went in society and high up it went in their state government was something of a secret. And that was on purpose. When the mid-70s rolled around and the state was realizing that the time of The Mississippi Soverignty Commission was coming to a close whether they liked it or not, government officials voted to have the records destroyed. One can argue why they believed destroying the records to be necessary, but when an organization has tampered with jobs, education, livelihoods and even lives (they kept track of the license plate numbers of civil rights workers, including those of the slain Michael Scherner, Andrew Goldman and James Chaney), there's no real credible argument that exists to prove that their desire to destroy these records wasn't an attempt to wipe their names clear of the rampant bigotry in their state. A court blocked the destruction of the records, saying that the records were a matter of historical reference and documentation. But, the court put a seal on them. That's where the last article in the book starts. When the seal was removed and the public could look at them. This bit struck me pretty hard:
"In 1965, for instance, Governor (Paul) Johnson received a letter, written in longhand, from a couple in Biloxi. "Dear Governor Johnson," it began. "We regret to say that for the first time in our lives we need your help very badly. We are native Mississipians and are presently living in Biloxi. Our only daughter is a freshman at the Univeristy of Southern Miss. She has never before caused us any worry. However, she is in love with a Biloxi boy who looks and is said to be part Negro..."
"Your recent letter and situation fills me with great apprehension," the Governor wrote back at once. "I am having this matter investigated to the fullest." Tom Scarbrough had already been dispatched to the Gulf Coast to investigate the lineage of the suitor - presumably under orders to exercise a level of discretion that would have made a close inspection of fingernails out of the question. In a three-thousand-word report, Scarbrough concluded that the young man was from a group of people in Vancleave, Mississippi, who were sometimes called "red-bones" or "Vancleave Indians"- people who had always gone to white schools and churches but had always been suspected by their neighbors of being part black. The possibility of arranging to have the suitor drafted - a solution hinted at in the letter from his girlfriend's distraught parents - was looked into and dropped when it became apparent that he was too young for the draft. I couldn't find any indication in the McCain Library files that the Sovereignty Commission was able to break up the romance, but in what other state in what other period of American history could parents of no great influence write to the Governor about a suitor they considered inappropriate and have the Governor get right on the case?"
That's the history of racial prejudice in Mississippi and, since Mississippi's a state in our country (and since this book displays that prejudice doesn't stop north of the Mason Dixon Line), that's the history of racial prejudice in America. It's as subtle as a mis-guided belief that half moon cuticles could tell you if someone was mixed race and as overt as the Governor of the state of Mississippi looking into getting a 17 year old person of color drafted into the military to keep him from dating a white girl in 1965.
Even if things have changed and we feel things are "better," it's important to remember that this is where we're coming from. 1965 isn't that long ago and, as this book shows, we've got a long way to go.